Doggy Shenanigans
by SayuriTsukiko
Summary: Set when Gladstone was a puppy. Watson had to go out and so must leave Holmes in charge of a puppy. Oh dear. Also features Irene, because she's awesome and I can't resist writing about her and Holmes. Rated T because of suggested swearing...and stuff.


**This is a one-shot I guess! (A very long one). It's about Gladstone. God I love that dog so much. :) He's so cute. I imagine he was trouble when he was a puppy. Hahaha. Oh, and I couldn't resist putting Irene in…because she's awesome.**

**Anyway, I guess I'm writing this as a kind of celebration thing. I got my A-Level results today and I passed them. So I'm going to university in September to do a history degree. Gee, am I going to be busy!**

* * *

"Watson, please don't leave me alone with a puppy. I don't know how to deal with puppies." Holmes pleaded desperately.

"You'll be fine Holmes! I'll only be gone for two hours. It's a house call. I can't not go." Watson replied with a sigh, continuing to pack his bag with various different pieces of medical equipment.

"Yes you can."

"No. _I can't._"

"Why?"

Watson closed his eyes and sighed. Holmes, even if he was his best friend, was absolutely infuriating. It took all of Watson's self control not to yell at Holmes.

"Because, old boy, there is a little girl who is currently suffering from chicken pox and her mother is desperately hysterical about the whole situation. I need to check up on her."

"But Watson my dear friend, _why?_"

"Because the world does not revolve purely around you Holmes!" The detective then tried to interrupt him, but Watson waved him away and then continued to speak. "Which is why, Holmes, I shall be going out to tend to my patient and you shall be staying to make sure Gladstone doesn't urinate on the floor!"

"Watson-"

"You _will_ take him out for a walk Holmes!" And with that, Watson picked up his bag and marched out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Holmes looked down at the tiny British bulldog puppy, who had been sitting quietly throughout the verbal exchange between his masters.

"Well," said Holmes, "that was rather childish, wasn't it boy?" Gladstone yapped in reply.

* * *

For the first ten minutes after Watson's departure, Holmes had been doing rather well with the dog. He had tried to play his violin at first, in an attempt to ignore the dog. But he had been distracted when the puppy had started to whine. Holmes had looked up at Gladstone, meaning to hush him, but when he saw the puppy's eyes gazing up at him, he found himself setting the instrument down on the table next to him.

"You are a good boy aren't you?" said Holmes cheerfully, reaching out to stroke the puppy's head. However, Gladstone didn't want to be stroked on the head, he rolled over so that his belly could be instead. Holmes chuckled and rubbed the dog's belly.

Now the problem with doing this was that Gladstone liked it too much. So he wasn't too happy when Holmes decided to stop stroking him. In an attempt to get the detective to pay attention to him, he clamped his teeth around the nearest thing…Which happened to be a pair of Watson's pinstriped trousers that Holmes had 'borrowed'.

" NO!" shouted Holmes, lunging forward to seize hold of the trousers.

This was mistake number two, because now Gladstone thought they were playing tug-of-war and for some reason, the little puppy was surprisingly strong. Holmes pulled the trousers one way, while Gladstone pulled the other. The detective dug his heels into the floor and Gladstone growled at him.

"Give…me…the trousers!" Holmes hissed between gritted teeth.

With the sound of ripping material, Holmes and Gladstone both stumbled backwards. Holmes actually fell into the table behind him with an "Ouch!". This was how Sherlock Holmes, the greatest consulting detective in the country, perhaps even the world, found himself on the floor, entangled with a fallen table.

Swearing and cursing under his breath, Holmes detached himself from the table and stood up. He brushed loose dust off his clothes and then picked up the destroyed trousers…or at least what was left of them. They had been completely split down the middle, so that the detective was holding one trouser leg in each hand.

Feeling the anger bubbling up inside him, Holmes turned to the dog. He was about to give the puppy a good telling off when-

"Oh good god no." groaned Holmes. He looked down at the dog and discovered the he had indeed urinated on floor. For a moment, Holmes considered his options…

"NANNY!" He yelled.

* * *

"Out! Take that dog for a walk Mr Holmes! I swear if he goes to the toilet on my floors one more time, I'm going to-"

"Uh, it was _my_ floor actually Nanny."

"Your floor? _Your floor? _It's _my_ house Mr Holmes! I'm the landlady!"

"Yes but I pay for-"

"OUT!"

So it was that Sherlock Holmes found himself alone outside with only the dog for company.

Holmes pulled at the dog's lead and snapped, "Come on you wretch, you're going to get me into trouble you know, because Watson will blame _me._"

They walked in the direction of the nearest park. It took longer than Holmes thought it would to get there, because Gladstone seemed to stop to sniff everything. At one point Holmes was tugging at the lead so hard, that a young lady made a comment to her friend as she passed them.

"People are so cruel to their animals aren't they Elizabeth?"

Holmes gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to shout after her.

Ten minutes later they _finally_ made it to the park. Holmes allowed Gladstone to 'do his business' in a bush. Well _he_ certainly wasn't going to pick it up. He then sat down on a park bench and reached towards the puppy, meaning to take the lead off for a while.

"I'm only going to take this off, if you _promise_ to be a good boy." he told the dog sternly. Gladstone barked in response and wagged his tail.

As Holmes was taking the lead off Gladstone's collar, a familiar smell hit him...the smell of Parisian perfume…

"Why Sherlock! I didn't know you had a dog!" said a familiar American voice from behind him.

Holmes turned around to see Irene Adler grinning at him like a Cheshire cat. She walked around the bench and sat down beside him. Very close beside him. Holmes tried to shuffle to the end of the bench, but found he could move no further as he was already pressed to the one of its arms.

It was uncomfortable…in more ways than one.

However, this feeling was ended immediately when Gladstone decided it would be a good idea to jump on to Irene's lap and lick her.

"Oh he's a friendly little fellow isn't he?" she laughed. She proceeded to rub either side of Gladstone's face, making noises as she did so. Noises which sounded suspiciously like "Awww". Gladstone barked and wagged his tail harder.

"Don't do that, you'll only get him excited again." Holmes growled, and then he said, "What do you want Miss Adler?"

Irene Adler sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Why do I have to want anything _Sherlock_?" She made sure to put particular emphasis on his first name. "I thought we were on first name terms?" she asked.

Holmes snorted, "If you say so."

She smiled at him.

"You're in a mood. Bad day?"

"The dog." He snapped in response.

"Oh but he's so sweet!"

"Oh he's sweet now. But you wait until he rips some of _your _clothes apart and urinates on _your_ floor. Then we'll see how you feel, _Irene."_ He snapped.

Irene smiled at him again.

"Would you like him to rip my clothes apart Sherlock?" she asked innocently.

"That's not what I meant woman and you know it!" he snarled.

Irene began to laugh at him. "Oh Sherlock! You're so easy to toy with!"

At this remark Holmes stood up. A fierce look had suddenly flitted across his face. Irene's smile and laugh disappeared as quickly as they had appeared.

"Gladstone and I must be leaving now Miss Adler." Holmes reached down towards her lap, where Gladstone was sitting. He re-attached the lead to the puppy's collar and then scooped him up off her lap and placed him on the floor. Irene stood up.

"Sherlock-"

"_Goodbye_ Miss Adler."

At this point, Gladstone decided that he would rather not leave. He ran around Irene and Holmes' legs and tied them together, so that they were inches apart. Several people passing chuckled at them.

"That damn dog!" growled Holmes.

"Do you think he's trying to tell us something Sherlock?" Irene whispered with a laugh.

They locked eyes for a second, but then Sherlock broke his gaze away from hers.

"He's a dog Irene, dog's don't try to tell us anything." He replied, as he attempted to unwind the lead from around their legs.

"That's not strictly true, is it?" she said thoughtfully, making no attempt to assist the detective.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, they try to tell us when they're hungry, or when they need to go outside. If you have a guard dog, it will raise the alarm when there is an intruder…So what you said, it's not strictly true."

Holmes had managed to unwind the lead; he picked Gladstone up to prevent him from doing it again. Straightening up, he smiled at Irene. She smiled back at him.

"That may be so. But what you think Gladstone is trying to tell _us _my dear, is ridiculous and impossible." He said with a grin. He did like their games.

"If you say so Sherlock."

He turned to leave, but Irene seized hold him, then, checking to see that nobody was looking, she kissed him. Both of them completely forgot that Holmes was holding Gladstone, who whined a little as he was being squashed. But neither Holmes nor Irene noticed, as their tongues were too busy fighting for control over one another.

Irene pulled back and then took a moment to regain her usual control.

"Goodbye Sherlock." She said breathlessly, before turning and walking in the opposite direction.

Holmes stared after her, realising that she would probably be on his mind constantly for a month now.

"That _bloody woman!_" he growled, and then he looked down at Gladstone and said, "That's your fault you know."

Gladstone tilted his head to one side, and whined a little in protest. If he had been able to talk, he probably would have said something along the lines of, "_Charming!_" or "_I wasn't the one kissing her!_"

* * *

Watson had returned shortly after Gladstone and Holmes. He had found the dog lying asleep on the floor by his chair. Holmes was in his own chair; he was leaning backwards and looking up at the ceiling. Occasionally he would shoot a look at Irene Adler's photograph and mutter, "_That bloody woman!_" and then "_Damn dog_" shortly afterwards. Watson laughed.

"I assume you bumped into Miss Adler, or whatever her surname is these days." laughed Watson.

"Frankly Watson, I don't care what she's called-" At this point he was interrupted by a snort from Watson, but Holmes ignored him and carried on. "And yes, we did bump into her." He grumbled.

"I see." Watson laughed again.

"Gladstone seems to like her."

"Is that so?" Watson replied with a grin. Holmes glared at him. "You know I'm impressed with you Holmes. You actually took Gladstone for a walk."

Watson stood up. He seemed to be looking for something.

"Holmes? You haven't seen my pinstriped trousers have you? I could have sworn you stole them the other day…"

Sherlock Holmes grinned at the ceiling and muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "Good boy Gladstone."


End file.
